Fairy Tales are Stupid
by LyaGobetti
Summary: Karkat can't sleep; mostly because he can't stop thinking about why John decided to save his life. Reading would surely keep his mind off of tof these complicated things, like always. Surely.  a fic based on Shatterstag's fanfic, "Never Trust a Troll"


Sometimes, thinking was hard.

Or rather, it was frustrating.

As he listened to the human boy's breathing across the room, fast asleep for hours now, the young troll's mind wandered along complicated and confusing paths, and he didn't like the way these thoughts were heading to.

Sometimes, it was best to just stare at the ceiling and count the spider webs.

But then again, no.

Karkat sighed, as slowly as possible. His chest rose only slightly when his lungs filled with air; but even with all the carefulness of the motion, he still winced, feeling his healing ribs complain at the forced extension of the muscles behind them. He closed his eyes and blindly reached for his nightstand, taking the first book that the tip of his fingers could find. He opened his eyes, scanning the short title across it.

It read "The Beauty and the Beast".

He raised a single eyebrow. He hadn't read that book yet. A human fairytale, John had told him, and a very nice story too. He turned his head on his pillow to glance at John, still asleep, tightly wrapped in thick blankets. His back was facing the troll so he wouldn't be bothered by the lantern that Karkat would surely lit up once he decided to read something in the middle of the night. His chest ached a little painfully, but this time it was not because of his broken ribs.

It was weird, really. The way the puny human decided to take him in and take care of him, risking being found out and probably kicked out of his own house. Disinherited, even. Still, against his own protective instincts, he even went after a second troll as soon as possible and allowed her to enter his home as well, only to help him get better.

It made no fucking sense.

Logically, when an animal is so wounded you can't help him, even if it's just because you don't know how to, the best thing to do is to kill it and end its misery. That was Karkat's situation only a couple of days ago. He didn't have the slightest hope of surviving, and anyone would've culled him without giving it a second thought. It was the best help the dying troll would ever get in his current state.

But not this human.

Even after he found out that he was a troll, not a human boy like he initially believed, John treated his injuries carefully, kept him comfortable and made sure he had plenty to eat and peaceful rests every day. Even though logic shouted at his face that this was his natural predator, a fucking troll on top of all things, he refused to let Karkat die.

Only because.

No particular reason other than because.

It was puzzling; mind blowing, even. The whole scenario was so weird to Karkat, such a different reality from the one he was used to, that he couldn't help but frown and doubt the boy's intentions. But Kanaya trusted John, and the human boy seemed to be speaking the truth when he confessed that he just couldn't let another being die right in front of him when he knew he could've done something to help. And also… John's presence was soothing, somehow. It made the troll calm, serene… even hopeful, maybe. He had this kind of energy that made Karkat want to cling at the helping hand being extended towards him and never let go.

But he knew this was impossible. He knew that, even though he now had a comfortable bed, a roof over his head, food on a plate and proper care for his health, soon he would have to leave. Soon, he wouldn't have anything anymore. Soon, he'd be all alone yet again.

The thought of being alone made Karkat shiver, and he tightened his grip to the long forgotten book on his hands. He looked at it, suddenly remembering his original plan of spending the night; suddenly interested in the human literature, he lit the lantern by the nightstand with a match and turned the cover open to read the very first page.

It was a really stupid book; Karkat wasn't at all surprised. A girl who loved to read ended up being kidnapped and kept captive inside an enchanted castle, where every single piece of furniture were actually living people under a spell. The only not stupid thing about the book, he thought to himself, was the beast. His eyes beamed when the horrific monster threw the pitiful girl inside the dungeons when she begged him to take her father's place, when he demanded that she would only eat in his presence, even though she was too scared to even get near him, that she wouldn't leave her bedroom unless she was allowed to do so (though Karkat kind of wished that he had kept her in the dungeons). In a way, Karkat related to the beast, who was extremely annoyed by the exaggerated kindness of the puny girl, and reacted to it the only way he knew how: shouting and stomping and demanding things were done his way.

And then, the stupid girl proved to be even stupider than Karkat originally thought – which was kind of almost impossible from his point of view – and went inside the room where an enchanted rose, symbolizing the spell's lifespan, stood, ignoring the obviously very serious order that she was never _ever_ allowed to go even near that room.

Karkat really wished that the beast had ripped off one of her limbs after such atrocity. He clearly told her that that room was prohibited, and still she decided to go in! First, it was trading places with her lusus to rot inside a dirty cage; now it was the obvious disregard for simple orders coming from a monster three times her size. Humans had a serious lack of self-preservation, Karkat noticed with amusement, as he kept on reading the book.

And, finally, he realized with a suppressed gasp, that the way the beast treaded the girl was just his way of expressing his black feelings for her! But such a dense human couldn't understand the intricacies of the violent but caring relationship he was willing to give her, and the girl ran with fear. And, of course, she managed to get in mortal danger. Nothing cliché about this, Karkat thought to himself. Suddenly apprehensive of what might happen next – but only for that, is not like he wasfond of the girl or anything –, his ears wiggled when the beast came along, proving his black feelings for her as he defended the fragile human from the vicious mammals threatening to shred her to pieces.

And then… and _then_, there it was again.

Even though the creature was cruel, horrifying, threatening and a potential danger to her, the girl reached over and took care of the injuries inflicted upon him when he saved her life, instead of doing what a sane and normal person would do: run away again and leave him alone to die of some nasty infection for all the bad things he had done to her.

Either that bitch was going pale for him, or she wanted to turn his black feelings into flushed ones.

Fucking typical.

And so, Karkat kept reading the book, never admitting not even to himself that he was enjoying the story, and realizing that, in so many aspects, human romance was, somehow, like their own.

In the end, the beast was completely ant utterly flushed for her. She had softened the vicious creature to a caring and loving person – Karkat wrinkled his nose, deciding he liked the terrifying beast instead of this jackass – and just as he was about to die after the epic final battle, she whispered those three, incomprehensible words that humans say when they are head over heels with flushed feelings for someone.

"I love you."

And then, _poof_, _pif_, _paf_, _kaboom_! The spell was broken only a moment before the enchanted rose died, the deadly injuries inflicted upon the beast were _conveniently_ healed, just like that, and surely enough, he took back to his original form as promised, along with every other talking piece of furniture inside the castle. And the two of them lived happily ever after – whatever that bullshit actually meant.

He closed the book, glancing at John and back to the window. Orange beams of light indicated that the sun was slowly rising against the horizon; he placed the book on the finished books pile, blew the candle inside the lantern and turned around, wrapping himself in his blankets, his mind filled with even more questions than before.

It seemed to be human's nature, or at least for some of them, to take care of one another, even when the other wasn't like them at all. They preferred to see the best in everyone, hoping that these thoughts were true until proven the contrary – and sometimes not even then – , always wishing for the best.

This optimistic way of living was extremely silly, he thought to himself as he took another deep breath, followed by a small throbbing pain going through his ribs, and closed his eyes.

In his sleep, he dreamed of a handsome older John who slowly took care of his bloodied injures in front of a warm fireplace, being carefully watched by talking teapots and chandeliers. The boy hummed a soft tone as he worked his way around the thick fur in his arm, and Karkat's heart felt light. It was nice, to know someone cared. To know someone wanted to help, that someone prayed for his happiness. And even though John wore a thick coat with white fake fur around the edges, probably much better suited for a female human, the Karkat in his dream didn't seem to care as he watched the skillful slender fingers clean the deep slashes on his skin with a damp white cloth.

He was brought back into reality when a light, soft hand rested against his forehead. He didn't open his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he felt the boy hunch over him, checking his breath and body temperature. The hand was slowly removed, and only a few seconds later, one of the thick blankets from John's sleeping nest was gently placed on top of him, warming up the troll even more.

He could hear the careful tip-toed footsteps against the floor, the doorknob twisting with a loud creak, and John stopping on his tracks beneath the door frame.

"Sweet dreams, Karkat." The boy whispered, slowly closing the door behind him and locking it before leaving to attend to his daily chores.

Karkat smiled against the pillow, breathing softly through his nose.

"Thank you, John..." he whispered back to the empty room, quickly slipping into a serene slumber, where he dreamed about smooth white snow, a red withering rose behind a bell jar and a dark castle filled with gargoyles.


End file.
